


Figure It Out

by ItsJustALittleRain (MortalCyn)



Series: It Started Out With A Kiss [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arguing, Conflicted Castiel, Conflicted Dean, Explicit Language, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Heaven's Civil War, Internal Conflict, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Canon Compliant, Public Display of Affection, Saving People Hunting Things, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortalCyn/pseuds/ItsJustALittleRain
Summary: Dean struggles to adjust to Castiel's new role in his life. Meanwhile Castiel seeks to balance his obligations to Heaven with his feelings for Dean.





	1. As Above

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth story in the It Started Out With A Kiss series, depicting the formation of a relationship between Dean and Castiel. Takes place after the events of Choices & Consequences. I honestly don't know if everything will make a ton of sense if you haven't read any of the other parts of the series...
> 
> Still not beta read, so if you see something, please let me know. Once again, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

This was going to take some getting used to.

It had been years since Dean had shared a bed with anyone else, not counting the occasional one-night stand that stuck around until the sun came up. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time, but he immediately recognized that this was somehow different. The first thing that had tipped him off was the body heat. He wasn’t sure what the average angel’s resting temperature was, but apparently Cas was on the warmer side. Dean figured that might come in handy in the dead of winter, but for now it was a bit much. A few choice words, and Cas had adjusted accordingly, matching his temperature perfectly to Dean’s in a way that was endearing, if not somewhat unsettling.

The second thing was the increased awareness of being watched. If Dean had thought Cas had stared at him often before, he soon learned that there was no comparison. He didn’t even have to look at Cas now to know when he was watching him. He could sense it, like an electric tingling just beneath the skin. He had woken out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night, utterly unsurprised to see Castiel sitting in his chair, studying him. When rolling over and ignoring him didn’t make the feeling go away, Dean gruffly ordered Cas to get in the bed, warning him not to try any funny business because he’d had a long day, thank you very much.

Not that Dean had anything to worry about in that department. Since their night in the Impala, Cas had been fairly hands off, which Dean hated to admit frustrated him to no end. He didn’t know if this was one of those angel things, that maybe the physical side didn’t interest Cas that much, or if he was still dealing with the residual effects of years of repression. If anything, Dean thought that would inspire Cas to want to make up for lost time, but no such luck. This wasn’t exactly easy for him either, but at some point, things needed to progress. He hoped Cas didn’t expect him to make the first move every time because that was going to get old quick.

As if reading his mind, Castiel settled his face against the back of Dean’s neck.

“What did I tell you?” Dean grumbled, half-sleep. “No funny business.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Castiel replied.

“I’ll bet,” Dean mumbled, trying to ignore the breath against his skin. “Go to sleep.”

“I don’t—”

“I know that you don’t need to sleep,” Dean sighed. “But I do. Maybe if you would’ve stopped by earlier… Anyway, I only told you to get your ass in here because you were creeping me out. So do me a favor and pretend to sleep, alright?” 

“Alright.”

Dean expected that it might take a while for him to fall back asleep with Cas beside him, but his presence seemed to have the opposite effect. When Dean woke up in the morning he felt a peace so complete that it was surreal. It wasn’t until he rolled over and was met with a pair of blue eyes that he remembered that he wasn’t alone. “Okay,” he said, once the initial jolt had faded. “Look Cas, I’m going to need you to dial it down.”

“Dial what down?” Castiel asked, brows furrowed.

“That,” Dean gestured. “The staring thing that you’re doing. It’s not like I didn’t notice it before, but now I can actually feel it. It’s physical and it’s distracting as all hell.”

“I see,” Castiel replied, looking somewhat guilty. “I will, as you say, dial it down. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Dean said, sitting up. “Just try not to be so intense, I guess.” _I should cut him some slack. He probably doesn’t even know when he’s doing it._ “Or whatever. I don’t know how it works for you.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. He stretched, his muscles humming appreciatively and then he felt the sensation of being watched so powerfully he almost lost his footing. He shot a glance at Cas, only to find that he was very deliberately not looking at him. _Nice try._ “Dial it down a little more,” Dean suggested. “Not quite at a comfortable level yet.” He ran a hand through his hair. “See you in the kitchen?”

Castiel nodded, still not looking at Dean.

Dean shook his head, as he pulled on his robe. _Yep, definitely going to take some getting used to._ He opened his door and made his way down the hall to the kitchen. 

“Morning,” Sam said, looking up from his newspaper. He pushed a white paper bag across the table. “I picked up breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, opening the bag. The smell of the bacon pushed all other thoughts to the back of his mind. He pulled out his sandwich and tore off the wrapper. “I’m starving.” He sat down in his chair.

Sam sniffed the air, brows furrowed. “Dude. Did you go running this morning?”

Dean looked at Sam as if that were the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “When have you ever known me to go running? Like ever?” He shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich. “You know the drill, if something ain’t chasing my ass, then I ain’t running.” He munched thoughtfully. “And even then, it’s less of a run, more of a light jog.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied. “But you smell like the woods. Or like nature anyway.” He leaned forward to get another whiff. “And rain. What the hell?”

Dean rolled his eyes and took another bite. “Sam, don’t sniff me. It’s creepy.”

Sam had just opened his mouth to make a retort when Castiel entered the kitchen. Sam shut his mouth and sat back in his chair just as Cas leaned over his brother and placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders. It was all Sam could do not to die of silent laughter at the war of emotions battling for control of his brother’s face.

“He smells this way because we slept together last night,” Castiel explained as if simply announcing the weather forecast.

“Cas!” Dean snapped, turning a brilliant red.

“Yeah, that’s a little bit too much information,” Sam said, still holding back laughter.

“Not in the biblical sense Sam,” Castiel said. “I only meant, that I slept with him in his bed. Although, I didn’t actually sleep, I merely lay beside him while he slept, so in that sense, we did not in fact sleep together.” He leaned his head to the side. “Although, I suppose to say that he slept with me would be correct, although once again, not in the biblical sense—”

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed. He turned to look over his shoulder with an expression of irritation bordering on pure exasperation. “Could you not?!” _Jesus…_

Sam cleared his throat and took a swig of coffee.

“Right,” Castiel said. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dean sighed, tapping a finger on Cas’ hands which were still resting on his shoulders. “Also, kind of trying to eat here. You want to get off of me so I can do that?” He sighed again, softening his tone. “Please.”

“Sorry,” Castiel said again, stepping away from Dean.

Sam scratched at the back of his neck, getting the distinct sense that this was something he was not meant to see. _Yeah, this isn’t awkward at all._ Sam leaned back in his chair. “So why do you smell like nature Cas? This is a recent thing right? I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed before.” 

“We have Chuck to thank for that particular feature,” Dean mumbled around his sandwich. “Part of the upgrade.” 

Castiel sat down in the chair at the end of the table. “As a rule, most angels do not have a smell, or at least not one that humans can perceive.” He leaned forward. “In addition to their grace, archangels are imbued with elements. With the original archangels, the four elements were divided up amongst them. In my case, God did not wish to create four, he only wished to create one. And so he imbued me with all four elements.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Huh. So that’s air, fire, earth, and water?”

Castiel nodded. “Correct.”

“So he’s basically the avatar,” Dean muttered, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

Castiel turned to Dean, eyes narrowed. “As I’m sure you are aware, I do not understand that reference. However, your tone clearly indicates that you are currently displeased with me. I can only assume that it has to do with my minor display of affection a moment ago.”

Sam put a hand to his face. “And here we go,” he said under his breath.

Dean dropped his hands on the table and sighed. “Cas, I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear, but don’t you have somewhere to be? Sam and I have work to do, and last I checked, you had a boatload of angels waiting on you to tell them where to stop and smite, so…” He waved a hand. “Catch up with you later, okay?”

Without saying another word, Castiel stood up and walked out of the kitchen. 

Sam sighed and shook his head. 

Dean bristled at his brother’s silent judgment. “What?”

“For someone who says they’re not trying to be a dick, you’re sure doing a pretty decent job of acting the part,” Sam remarked. “Dean, why are you still being weird about this? I thought you and Cas were supposed to be together now, so what’s the problem?”

Dean knew that Sam had a point. He and Cas had crossed a line, finally starting to explore years of unresolved tension, but putting a label on it would make it real. He wasn’t ready for this thing between them to be real, because whenever he had experienced anything remotely like this in the past, he had always somehow managed to fuck it up. If he could keep this thing, whatever it was, floating in the abstract, undefined and formless, then there was no chance to ruin it.

“We’re not exactly together,” Dean argued. “Just because we fooled around once and I let him sleep in my bed last night,” he pointed, “which by the way, I only allowed because I woke up and the son of a bitch was just sitting there staring at me, which was creepy as fuck, I might add, so he might as well just get in the damn bed,” he took a breath, “doesn’t mean that we’re official. It just means… that you were right about us having a thing, and so we’re just trying to figure it out, that’s all,” he finished.

Sam squinted at Dean.

“What?” Dean asked again.

Sam shook his head. “Whatever you say.” He pushed the newspaper across the table. “Anyway, you’re right. We have work to do. This looks like it might be a case.”

Dean glanced at the newspaper article. “Father drowns trying to save his three children.” His eyes roamed over the photo of the smiling family. “Damn, that’s pretty messed up. But how is that a case? People drown.” He shrugged. “Tragic, but it happens.”

“Yeah they do, but get this,” Sam replied. “I did some research, and I found out that this particular town has had over fifty drownings a year for the past hundred years at least, maybe longer. There is literally at least one every single week. All in the same river.”

“Holy crap,” Dean said. “Sounds like they need to build a Y so they can take some damn swim lessons.”

“Good idea,” Sam quipped. “Except that one of the victims actually won an Olympic gold medal in the women’s five hundred meter freestyle back in the 30s, so I’m pretty sure she knew how to swim.”

“Yeah well, what about riptides?” Dean asked. “I’ve heard that even the most experienced swimmers can get sucked into those.”

Sam gave his brother an irritated look. “Rivers don’t have riptides. Those are only at the beach.” He shook his head. “I’m telling you, there’s something going on here.”

“Maybe,” Dean conceded. “What are you thinking? Witches? Vengeful spirits?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sam replied. He pushed back his chair. “But it’s definitely worth checking out. Unless you have something better to do.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up. “Right. Let’s hit the road then.” He pointed at Sam. “But if this turns out to be nothing, you have to wash Baby for a month.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He rose to his feet. “You’d just better be thankful I’m even agreeing to ride in the Impala now that you and Cas are together. There’s no telling what you two have been doing in the backseat.”

“We are not together,” Dean huffed, his face burning from the memory of what he and Cas had in fact done in the backseat. “I already told you, we just—”

“Have a thing,” Sam finished. “Heard you the first time.”

* * *

 

 _This is utterly pointless,_ Castiel decided. _An exercise in futility._ He glanced around at the numerous pairs of angelic eyes staring patiently back at him. Democracy, while far from a perfect invention, tended to serve the needs of humanity fairly well. Unfortunately the angels did not seem as suited to the idea. He had hoped that by encouraging more open discussion and participation in his plans that the other angels, old and new, would feel empowered to offer their input. If Heaven was truly to be for all of them, he wanted all of them to get involved. 

It only took a few meetings before Castiel realized that the other angels would merely go along with anything he said, no matter how outrageous. In a fit of frustration during one particularly unproductive session, he had suggested that they boil the oceans into steam, only to be met initially with shocked expressions which gradually turned into a sea of solemnly nodding heads, none of them daring to contradict the wisdom of his idea.

“That will be all for now,” Castiel announced, resisting the strong urge to cover his face with his palm. “You are free to return to your duties.” He watched as the angels quickly dispersed, murmuring quietly amongst themselves and casting furtive glances back at him. _Hannah always made this look so easy._ He sighed, recognizing that it was a useless emotion, but missing his friend all the same. _I will make this work. I just need to find a way for them to understand._ He stood up, heading down the endless white hallway.

Castiel knew that part of it was his own fault. He did not want this task that God had entrusted to him. He would’ve rather been exiled again, than given watch over Heaven. Everywhere he looked he perceived the absence of those he had killed, either through his own direct action or otherwise crushed within the gears of the machine that he had broken during his rebellion. But this was the price his choices had wrought, and so he would pay it. He entered the archives, not at all surprised to see one of the older angels seated behind a vast desk. 

A former protégé of Naomi, Pieta had managed to seamlessly ingratiate himself within every regime change until now, and he had made it clear that he had no intention of acclimating to the new order. Castiel suspected that his former self would’ve murdered Pieta, if not out of sheer dislike, then out of the need for self-preservation. Yet Castiel had learned his lesson from slaughtering all of Raphael’s followers, and so he had elected to ignore Pieta’s petty acts of disrespect under the wisdom that a fire which has no fuel will soon fade out. Unfortunately, his lack of response seemed to be having the opposite effect, emboldening his detractor to less subtle means of defection. Castiel knew that sooner or later he would have to be dealt with, but he held out hope that they could reach a civil, if not cordial understanding before it came to that.

“Another successful meeting, I’m sure,” Pieta said, not bothering to look up from his scroll. He did not rise from his seat upon Castiel entering the room, which the other angels did as a show of deference.

Castiel ignored the insult. In truth, he did not like that the other angels felt the need to rise whenever he appeared, but the blatant message Pieta was sending did not go unnoticed. “How would you know? You did not attend, as usual.”

“And nor will I ever,” Pieta replied, finally looking up. “It is not often that you pay a visit to the archives. Is there a particular item that is of interest to you, or are you simply surveying your kingdom?” 

“It is not my kingdom,” replied Castiel drily. “I am not a king.” He walked over to a side table, a dark wooden chest resting upon the surface.

“You might as well be, if the behavior of the other archangels is anything to go by,” said Pieta.

“I am not the other archangels.” Castiel picked up the chest and opened it. It was full of coins. _All these are from civilizations long faded from human memory._ He picked up a handful of the multi-colored disks, scrutinizing the variance in metals and craftsmanship throughout the ages. “I am simply myself. No more, no less.”

“And who exactly is that?” Pieta questioned. “Do you know why the others are so uneasy in your presence? They’re waiting for you to show us who you really are. Will you make us all line up and declare our undying devotion? Will you disintegrate us if we step out of line? Will you incite us into a war? Or will you simply abandon us altogether?”

“If you attended the meetings, you would be aware of my plans,” Castiel replied evenly, watching as the coins tumbled from his fingers, their clinking almost musical in its quality. He sat the chest back down on the table and picked up a scroll.

Pieta gave Castiel a derisive look. “Plato’s Republic. An inspired choice. Are you planning to turn Heaven into a city state?” questioned Pieta. “You do recall what happened to Greece, I presume?”

Castiel glanced at Pieta. “Are you insinuating that the Romans will conquer and assimilate us?”

Pieta laughed drily. “Of course not. I simply do not see why you would look to humans for anything of value to Heaven. No matter what cares they take to preserve their societies, they all fall and crumble into dust at the end.” He waved his hand, looking around. “The archives are the testament to that.”

“Humans are flawed,” Castiel conceded, eyes moving down the scroll. “But they try, and that is what is most important. They never give up on the things that matter.”

“That just makes them foolish,” replied Pieta.

“They certainly can be,” Castiel agreed, still reading.

“And yet you still love them,” Pieta mused. “Or rather, one of them in particular.”

Castiel set the scroll down on the table. He looked at Pieta, not surprised at the turn in conversation, but not looking forward to it either. “Is there something you wish to say to me?”

“Well, if you insist,” Pieta began. He drew himself up. “Some of the angels believe that you do not wish to watch over Heaven. Rather, they feel that your true interest lies with earth. There is some concern that your affinity for humanity leaves your judgment compromised.”

Castiel sighed. “Is that so?”

Pieta made a noncommittal gesture. 

Castiel picked the scroll up again and resumed reading. 

Pieta bristled. “Have you nothing to say in your defense?”

“I was unaware that I am on trial,” Castiel replied, finishing the text. “If the other angels have such concerns, why do they not address them with me themselves?”

“Because they are all afraid of you,” said Pieta simply. “Absolutely petrified.”

“And you’re not?” Castiel asked. He set the scroll back down on the table and picked up a small blue and green globe.

“Of course not,” Pieta answered. “I’ve already seen you at your worst, powered up on stolen souls, infested with Leviathan, laying waste to everything that moved or looked upon you with a defiant eye.” He grimaced. “And yet, here you are again. This time blessed with a power unlike any you have ever known.” He lifted his chin. “There are some amongst us who question the wisdom of our father’s actions, while others have simply accepted that He works in mysterious ways.”

“That he does,” Castiel said wryly, turning the globe over in his hand, observing its living depiction of the current weather on Earth.

“I must admit, it looks good on you,” said Pieta. “No wonder your pet human finds you so irresistible all of a sudden.”

Castiel looked up from the globe. “He is not my pet.”

“Are you certain?” countered Pieta, folding his hands on the desk. “You do all of the things for him that a master does for a pet. You look after him, you take amusement in his antics, you clean up his messes.”

“That still does not make him my pet,” Castiel said, setting the globe down again with slightly more force than necessary.

“Then what is he?” asked Pieta. 

“He is my friend,” Castiel replied with a hint of irritation. “Although I would not expect someone like you to understand the concept. You hold so much contempt for the company of others.” He glanced around. “Perhaps that is why you are so well suited to the archives. Surrounding yourself with these long forgotten objects, eschewing companionship. I imagine it must be a rather lonely existence.” 

“I am not nearly so alone as you think,” Pieta said. He snapped his finger. “But of course, how could I have missed it?”

Castiel sighed, already expecting another fresh assault on his composure. “Missed what?”

“I was mistaken, he is not your pet. You are his,” Pieta announced.

Castiel gave Pieta a look that would’ve undoubtedly unnerved any of the other angels to the very core. “I am no one’s pet,” he said evenly.

“Are you certain? After all, you do all the things for him that a pet does for its master. You come whenever he calls, you protect him from threats, and through it all you adore him no matter how he treats you.” Pieta nodded slowly. “That’s it exactly. Imagine, being a mere human, and somehow having the most fearsome weapon of Heaven at your personal command.”

“You are mistaken,” replied Castiel, turning to walk away.

“Am I?” questioned Pieta, rising to his feet. “Tell me then brother, why is it that our father, God himself, struggled to bring you to heel, yet one summon from Dean Winchester and you are ready to risk the fate of the entire universe on the whims of one mortal man?” 

Castiel turned around slowly. “Why are you saying this to me, Pieta? What is your purpose?”

“I say it because no one else will dare,” Pieta answered. “I feel it is my duty to inform you that it is not possible to have more than one master. Eventually you will have to decide who it is that you truly serve.” He lifted his chin. “I wouldn’t wait too long to decide. Someone else might make the choice for you.”

“Is that a threat?” Castiel asked quietly. 

Pieta made a conciliatory gesture with his hands. “Please, Castiel. I’m not a fool. I wouldn’t dream of threatening you. Just an opinion, formed by eons of observation. These things have a way of ending badly.”

Castiel trusted his own instincts well enough to recognize a threat when he heard one, no matter how delicate the phrasing. He also knew that if he lashed out over the slightest provocation the rest of the angels would be even more terrified of him. They would never see him as anything other than a living weapon to be brandished against them whenever his whims allowed. Heaven could not be ruled with fear. _There has to be a better way._

A small ripple passed through Castiel suddenly, jarring him from his thoughts. _Sam._ Sam’s prayers were always so different from Dean’s, less demanding and more apologetic, as though he hated to bother him. He continued to stare down Pieta, debating whether or not he should leave. It didn’t feel like a particularly urgent request, but the fact that it was Sam doing the calling and not Dean was enough to raise Castiel’s curiosity, if not his concern. He sighed, resolved to let this pass for now. “I have to go. This conversation isn’t over, Pieta.”

* * *

 

“Well, that was a complete waste,” Dean grumbled, tossing his suit jacket over the back of the armchair. He flopped down onto his motel bed and dropped his arm over his face. “What the hell is wrong with the people in this town? Are they actually drinking the river water or something?”

They had been interviewing town residents all day, and so far all Dean had to show for it was sore feet and the beginnings of what was shaping up to be a pretty nasty migraine. He fumbled through his bag until he found the bottle of aspirin, and swallowed a few dry.

Sam closed the door and walked across the motel room. “I don’t know. Everyone just seemed kind of… resigned.” 

“Resigned to what?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. “That they’re all going to drown eventually? Especially Mrs. Gaertner. She just keeps standing there at the edge of the shore, like she wants to fall in. It’s pretty sad.”

“I mean, can you blame her?” Dean replied. “Husband and kids all gone below. I’d probably want to throw myself in too if I were in her position.” He shook his head. “There’s definitely something fishy going on here.” He snapped his finger. “What about the coroner’s reports? Were you able to get in?”

Sam sat down in the chair beside the small desk. “Yeah, I was able to get access, but they weren’t much help. For one thing, most of the bodies were never recovered. And the ones they did manage to drag out are pretty normal. No signs of drugs, trauma, or a struggle. Just drowning.” He sighed. “It’s like they all just throw themselves in and let the water take them under.”

“Like lemmings,” Dean offered.

Sam shook his head. “Lemmings don’t actually do that. That myth started when Disney forced a bunch of them off a cliff because they wanted to put it in a movie.”

“Damn Disney, way to be dicks,” Dean muttered. He snapped his finger again. “Hey, you remember that case we worked on a lake about… twelve years ago? The one where all those people kept drowning? I think one girl even drowned in her sink.”

Sam nodded. “Right, and it turned out that the sheriff and his friends had drowned a kid and covered it up. You think that might be what’s happening here?”

“Maybe,” Dean replied. “But if so, why the high body count? It’s not like the entire town could be in on it. I mean, you said this has been going on since the 20s, right?”

“Even before that,” Sam corrected. “I found out that the town was founded by Greek immigrants in the late 1880s. Apparently the first few deaths started not long after, but I guess it wasn’t as well known. Kind of a small town secret.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know. I was picking up some major EMF near the river, but I just didn’t get that vengeful spirit vibe, you know?” 

“It’s not a ghost,” Castiel announced, appearing in the center of the room.

Dean turned to Sam. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“I prayed to him on my way back,” Sam explained. “A weird case like this, I thought we could use his input.”

“And he actually showed up before midnight?” Dean asked. “Nice.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Sam is just as much my friend as you are. Would you prefer that I ignore his prayers? Do you feel that I should only come when _you_ call?” 

Dean blinked. _Well damn…_ He could sense Sam’s eyes on him, practically hear him wondering what the fuck this was all about now. “You can do whatever the hell you want Cas. Show up, don’t show up. It’s fine.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So,” he said. “How are things?”

“Things are as well as can be expected,” Castiel replied evenly.

“Glad to hear it,” Dean said. “How’s Heaven?”

“Heaven is Heaven,” Castiel answered, his tone clearly indicating that he had no interest in discussing it further.

“Well _excuse me,_ ” Dean muttered. “Sorry I asked.”

“Thanks for coming Cas,” Sam said, striving to keep the peace. “You’re sure it’s not a ghost?”

Castiel nodded. “I am certain that the creature in that river is a ferryman.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. “What the hell is that?”

“In ancient Greece the humans called them Charon,” Castiel explained. “They were a very primitive form of reaper.”

“So, why is it here and not vacationing on the Mediterranean?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know. They are supposed to be extinct,” he answered. “Angels wiped them all out during the fall of Rome. Heaven wanted a clean slate for Christianity to thrive upon.”

“Well guess what?” Dean shot back. “You missed one!”

“I did not command that particular mission,” Castiel replied drily.

“Oh yeah? Well, who did?” Dean asked.

“Balthazar,” Castiel said quietly.

“Great,” Dean muttered. “Well I guess he’s not going to be much help now.”

Sam turned to stare at Dean, eyes wide. _Dude…_

Castiel sighed and glanced upward. “No, I suppose not. Neither will I.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Why not? I mean, you said it yourself, this thing, whatever it is, it’s some type of reaper, right? Well, last time I checked, reapers fell under Heaven’s jurisdiction. So go handle it.”

Castiel shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean asked, his tone pointed.

“Does it matter?” Castiel replied, returning Dean’s tone. “The answer is still no.”

“It’s alright Cas,” Sam said. “We can find another way. I’m sure this thing has some kind of weakness—”

“To hell with that,” Dean cut in. “Cas, if this thing is here because you guys screwed the pooch, then you need to get your ass over to the river and get rid of it. People are dying!”

“And then what?” Castiel asked. “Would you have me purge every creature from the face of the earth? Wipe the surface clean of every monster that ever took a life? These creatures are not my responsibility, they are yours. I have obligations of my own, on a scale that you cannot fathom.”

“Cas,” Dean warned. “You are starting to seriously piss me off.” He pointed. “Now, I’m only going to say this once—”

“Do not use that tone with me Dean,” Castiel cut in, his voice low. “I may care for you deeply, but I am not your pet.” He glanced at Sam. “I regret that I could not be of more assistance, but I have every faith in you and your brother.” He vanished just as abruptly as he had arrived.

Dean stared at the empty space, mouth agape. “Unfuckingbelievable!”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, letting out a relieved breath. For a moment there he had been fairly certain he was about to witness a brawl. “I can’t believe you just tried to pull rank on Cas.”

“Wait what?” Dean exclaimed, turning on Sam. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

Sam shook his head and opened his laptop. “I’m not taking sides Dean. Just calling it like I see it.”

“Really? And what is it that you see, oh wise one?” Dean asked.

“I can see that you’re afraid,” Sam replied, typing.

“What?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Of Cas? Please. He doesn’t scare me Sam, I don’t care how juiced up he is. He’s still Cas.”

“Not of Cas,” Sam replied. “You’re afraid of how he makes you feel. For the first time in a long time, you actually want something besides hunting and it terrifies you. You’re scared that you’re going to mess it up, so you do that thing that you do where you push people away.” He shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe this is one thing that you don’t have to fight so hard.”

“This isn’t all on me, okay?” Dean defended. “Cas had an attitude from the moment he showed up. It’s not like I was trying to piss him off.”

“You weren’t exactly not trying, either,” Sam retorted. “Yes, something was obviously bothering him, and you could’ve, I don’t know, asked him about it, rather than just brushing it off. Try communicating for a change.”

Dean glowered at Sam. “Sammy, you’re my brother and I value your skill as a hunter, and sometimes even enjoy your company, but the whole couples counseling thing…” He stood up. “It’s getting old, alright? Just do me a favor and mind your damn business. Let me worry about Cas, okay?” He waved at the laptop. “You just see what the hell you can learn about that thing out there, since your former crush apparently has better things to do.”

* * *

 

As he landed back in Heaven, Castiel realized he could’ve handled things with Dean slightly differently. He hated to admit it, but Pieta’s words had burrowed like a seed into his mind and taken root there. It wasn’t the first time that he’d been called Dean’s pet, and it had never bothered him in the past. But that was before they had tentatively started to acknowledge the feelings between them. He believed Dean to be righteous, even after everything that had happened with the mark of Cain. Yet there was the fear that Pieta had uncovered, that Dean was not so much responding to who he was, rather than to what he was. That this one change had the power to alter the course of their relationship. It filled Castiel with unease, and made him reluctant to do anything other than look at the hunter, despite how unsatisfied it left him. 

Castiel sensed Pieta’s infinitely grating presence as he turned the corridor. With weary resignation, he prepared himself for a fresh volley of barbs and taunts.

“Back so soon?” Pieta asked, as Castiel walked past. “Human masters can be so cruel.” He shook his head. “Entirely too fickle.”

Without even looking at Pieta, Castiel could feel the sneer being aimed at his back. He turned slowly, his gaze dispassionate. “Why do you goad me so continuously? Do you want me to take your life? Is that truly what you seek?”

Pieta squared his shoulders. “I am but a humble servant of Heaven. If my life is the cost to be paid for the others to finally see that we have been left in the care of a madman, then it is a cost I will gladly pay.”

Castiel noted with wry realization that a small crowd of angels had begun to gather at both ends of the corridor. They were waiting to see how he would respond to the insult. For the briefest instant, he allowed himself to visualize the possibility of making Pieta shatter into a billion pieces or immolating him from the inside as Michael had always done. “So this is your plan for a better Heaven.” He approached Pieta slowly, his stride measured. “You call me a madman and you seek to provoke me into killing you.” 

Pieta lifted his chin and remained silent.

Castiel stopped and gave Pieta the iciest smile he could manage. “And yet, I happen to know for a fact, that the maddest thing a man can do is to let himself die.” He brushed past Pieta. “Find some other cause to martyr yourself for,” he said dismissively.

Castiel could feel the relief of the other angels as they parted to make a path for him. He shook his head, refusing to dwell on how angry Pieta had made him. He was certain that the other angel had not truly been willing to die, and he knew that Castiel had no intention of killing him. This was just yet another move in his plot for control. A clumsy ploy to rally the other angels to his side. _Why must it always come to this? No matter what we do, no matter how we suffer, we always end up right back here. Plotting and scheming._ “I wish I could just tear it all down,” he muttered.

“I should hope not,” said a quiet voice to his side.

Castiel turned to his left. Prior to his fall, he had not been particularly well acquainted with Joshua, the soft-spoken angel who tended to Heaven’s garden, but he had always been fond of him, especially after he had helped Sam and Dean to evade Zachariah while they were in Heaven. “I was only thinking out loud,” he explained. “I did not mean it.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Joshua agreed. “However, you must have a care what thoughts you speak. We wouldn’t want to alarm the flock.” He inclined his head deferentially towards Castiel. “I was just on my way to the garden if you care to accompany me?”

Castiel inclined his head in return. “I would appreciate the change of scenery.” 

Castiel couldn’t recall the last time that he had visited Heaven’s garden. As beautiful and wondrous as it was, he was somewhat ashamed to admit that he preferred the imperfect yet authentic gardens on earth. He followed Joshua to a stone bench resting beneath a lushly planted balcony that reminded him so very much of the lost hanging gardens of Babylon.

Joshua turned to Castiel, his dark brown eyes patient and kind. “Now tell me, what is it that troubles you so? Surely a petty squabble is not worth the destruction of Heaven?”

Castiel sighed. “Of course not. Despite what some may think, Heaven means a great deal to me. For so long, I dreamt of nothing else during my exile. I longed to return, and yet now that I have…” He trailed off. “I can think of nothing other than those we have lost. Everywhere I go, I feel their absence. Hundreds of them, thousands of them. All gone. Because of my actions.”

“Yours alone?” asked Joshua.

“Perhaps not,” Castiel admitted. “But had it not been for my decision to prevent the apocalypse and my war with Raphael, they might still be alive.”

“Some of them, yes,” Joshua replied. “But knowing what you know about the corruption and the manipulation, do you truly think that Heaven would be better off had you not intervened? If you had allowed Lucifer and Michael to destroy the earth, then where would we be now? Where would your precious humans be?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said quietly. “But I can’t help feeling that the mistakes that I’ve made have, in some ways caused just as much damage.”

“Castiel, you should know well enough by now that nothing is certain,” Joshua replied. “Things have a way of surprising us, particularly when we least expect it.” He waved his hand. “Yourself for instance. Why do you think God left Heaven in your keeping? You, who were once nothing more than a soldier, designed merely to follow orders. Never to question, only to obey. And yet, here you are, elevated beyond your wildest imaginings and granted dominion over us all. Why do you think that is?”

“Maybe he made a mistake,” Castiel murmured.

“Is that truly what you believe?” Joshua asked.

“I honestly don’t know what to believe,” Castiel admitted. “I want to trust in His infinite judgment and wisdom, and yet, I find myself conflicted. Forever being pulled between what I know I must do, and what I never wish to do again.”

“Torn between the heart and mind,” Joshua replied. “Just like a human. Castiel, what is it that God values above all else?”

“Humanity,” Castiel said immediately.

“And who amongst us values humanity more than you?” Joshua asked. “Unlike Lucifer who was consumed by jealousy and set out to destroy the humans, you only wish to protect them. You love them, in a way that the rest of us are simply not capable. Our devotion is only to God, but you have embraced his creation wholeheartedly.” He shook his head. “It is no mistake, him choosing you. You need only embrace the role that he has set for you the way that you have embraced his love for mankind. Only then will your mind be at ease.”

Castiel sighed. “You make it all sound so simple.” He stared down at his palms. “Even if I could embrace this role, I could never stop seeing the blood on my hands from those who have died to get me to this point. I do not believe that I shall ever know peace while I walk these halls.”

Joshua sighed. “If it is truly what you wish, then you can always go to them. You are aware of what happens to angels when they die?”

“Their grace is dispersed back into the universe,” Castiel replied. 

“They become one with The Empty,” Joshua corrected. “Never again can they regain angelic form, but some bit of them does remain within the cosmos. If you go there, you can feel them. Considering how many of them knew you well, I daresay you may even be able to communicate on some level.” He shook his head. “Although I would advise against this. It will be dangerous for you. The call of the void is very strong, and they will not want to let you go. If you lose yourself to it, you will never find your way back. You will have to abandon your vessel, as only your true form is capable of making the trip.” He smiled sadly. “And I am sure that I don’t have to tell you that you have enemies in Heaven, even now.”

Castiel returned the smile. “Pieta has not exactly been subtle about his opinion of me.”

“And yet he lives,” Joshua marveled.

“I refuse to take another angel’s life unless I have no other choice,” Castiel admitted. “I am still contemplating what should be done with him.”

“Just don’t contemplate for too long,” Joshua advised. “Killing you would be nearly impossible, but there are other ways for them to harm you, and if anything were to happen, Heaven would once again fall to chaos.” He sighed. “I confess, there are times when I too contemplate flying away from it all.” He smiled and looked around. “But then I remember, who would take care of the garden? The average angel doesn’t know the difference between a guaiacum sanctum and a guaiacum officinale.”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “I do not understand any of what you have just said.”

“That is precisely my point,” Joshua said, laughing. “I stay, because I have a job to do, that no one else could possibly do.” His face grew serious, but his eyes remained gentle. “Do you take my meaning?”

“I do,” Castiel answered, standing. “I will return once I have found what I need.”

“I certainly hope so,” Joshua replied, rising to his feet. “I am sure that you know what will become of your youngest followers if you do not return.” He glanced around. “As for the rest of us, we will simply be trading one uncertainty for another. Heaven has already been through so much, it can hardly handle another failure.”

“I won’t fail,” Castiel assured him. “Thank you for your guidance. It was most helpful.”

Joshua nodded his head in deference as Castiel walked away. “And yet, still not enough.”


	2. So Below

“So, I just spent all day yelling people away from the edge of the river like a lunatic,” Dean said, as he closed the motel room door. “Sammy, I hate this damn case.” He flopped down onto his bed with a weary sigh and stared up at the ceiling. “Please, tell me you got something.”

“Well, I got about a hundred pages of a travel journal from the estate of the founding family,” Sam answered, staring at his computer screen. “It belonged to their sixteen year old daughter.”

“Great,” Dean replied sarcastically, slapping his hand down on the mattress. “You found a diary. So tell me, what’s the good gossip from the 1800s? Anything in there about Goody Proctor dancing with the devil?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, it’s about two hundred years too late for that scoop. Anyway, it was all in Greek, so I scanned it and sent some images over to the local university.” He turned his laptop around so that Dean could see what he was reading. “And the head of the foreign language department sent me back this.”

Dean glanced at the massive wall of text on Sam’s computer screen with the barest sliver of a scroll bar. “Yeah, I’m not reading that. Give me the Cliff Notes.”

Sam turned the screen back around. “She wrote about a boy that she was in love with back home, and right before her family left Greece, he gave her an old silver coin for luck. Apparently it was a family heirloom, very valuable. She even credits it to granting them a safe passage over the water. It sounds like a lot of the families that tried to follow them didn’t make it.” He shrugged. “If I had to take a shot in the dark here, I’m betting that this ferryman is somehow bound to that coin.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed. “So now we know how it got here. But what the hell does all that have to do with the drownings?”

“According to the lore, you found Charon near a river,” Sam said. “He was supposed to ferry souls across the river to the underworld in exchange for payment in silver coin. That’s why it was tradition to place coins on the eyes of the recently deceased, because if they couldn’t pay, he would leave them stranded between the living and the dead for a hundred years.” He sighed. “As if that wasn’t grim enough, he would also agree to take a living person across for a higher fee, so that they could bring back a loved one.”

“So this thing was making deals too?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. “What the hell is it, some type of reaper/demon hybrid?”

Sam shook his head. “It was just a trick. The person would always come back alone, if they came back at all. The loved one would vanish just before crossing over, and the living person was usually so upset, they’d jump into the river and drown.”

“No wonder the angels wiped them out,” Dean muttered. “So where can we find this damn coin? We should melt it down into a bullet and shoot his ass with it.”

Sam shrugged. “History museum? Antique shop? I don’t know yet. I’ll start looking in the morning.” He groaned as a horrible thought occurred to him. “I just hope the founder’s daughter wasn’t buried with it.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first grave we’ve robbed for the cause,” Dean replied, sitting up. “Good work, Sammy. Since you cracked the case, if it does turn out that she took it to her grave, I’ll crack the casket.”

Sam closed his laptop. “Yeah, I can’t say I’m going to miss that part.” He stretched, and gave Dean a quick once-over, not missing his pensive expression. “You want to head down to the bar to unwind for a bit?”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “I guess I could go for a cold one. Just give me a few minutes.” He stood up and walked into the bathroom. He leaned back against the bathroom door, trying to shake his listlessness. They’d been in town three days and thanks to his loud and watchful presence, no one else had drowned. Sam had miraculously managed to put the pieces together and they finally were on the verge of wrapping up the case. It should’ve felt like a win, but Dean kept thinking about his argument with Cas.

He had half-hoped that he would wake up in the middle of the night with the sensation of being watched, but when it didn’t happen he was forced to acknowledge an uncomfortable truth. Whether he admitted it or not, the damage was done. Cas was under his skin, and not having him around was much worse than it had any right to be. Sam was right, pushing people away was something he did very well. It was also the absolute last thing he wanted right now. 

Experience had taught him that Cas was unlikely to show up if he thought Dean was pissed at him. Unfortunately Dean realized that if they were ever going to make anything work, he was probably always going to have to be the one to extend the olive branch. The thought irked him to no end, but Cas’ absence irked him more. _And I told that prick not to friggin disappear on me… I guess that’s just the price I have to pay._ Dean sighed and closed his eyes. _Cas, if you’re listening, I really need to see you._

Dean waited, expecting the gust of wind from Cas’ wings to breeze by him any minute now. When nothing of the sort happened, he huffed and resolved to try again. _Look, I know things didn’t go so well last time we spoke, but don’t ignore me, okay? You said that you wouldn’t disappear on me, remember? Please come down here so that we can talk._

“Uh Dean,” called Sam.

Dean quickly opened the bathroom door, his instincts rattled by the hint of alarm in his brother’s voice. He stepped out into the room and stopped, several pairs of eyes staring placidly back at him. “What the hell?!”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, trying his best not to appear overly nervous. “Were you in there praying to Cas, by any chance?”

“Maybe,” Dean said, his eyes darting around. There were five well-dressed teenagers standing in their motel room, watching him with a familiar intensity. He narrowed his eyes and studied them all in turn. Three girls, one blonde, one red-haired, one with jet black hair. Two boys, twins by the looks of things, dark skinned. All five of them had unnaturally bright blue eyes. 

Sam still hadn’t moved from his spot at the desk. 

“Who the hell,” Dean started, then realized he already knew who they were. “They’re Cas’ clones,” he said to Sam.

“We are not his clones,” the blonde angel said. 

“It is impossible to clone an angel,” the red-haired angel chimed in.

“Our molecular structure—” began the twins.

Dean put his hand up. “Alright, just stop it right there. I’ve already had this conversation, and let me tell you, it was uncomfortable enough the first time without all of this Children of the Corn action going on here.” He shuddered.

With perfect synchronicity, the angels leaned their heads to the side and studied him.

“Oh my God,” Sam whispered, visibly disturbed.

“Stop it,” Dean snapped, his skin practically crawling. “You’re all creeping me out!” He shuddered again. “What the hell are you guys even doing down here? I prayed for Cas, not the audience from the Teen Choice awards.”

The angels turned to each other and spoke amongst themselves in Enochian for a few moments.

Dean seized the opportunity to shuffle closer to Sam. He glanced at his brother, trying to keep calm.

“Are we about to fight?” Sam mouthed silently.

Dean shrugged. “No idea,” he mouthed back.

Finally the angels stopped and looked at Dean. “We do not understand that reference,” said the girl with the dark hair. “However, we are here because Castiel is unavailable and he instructed us to keep watch over you in his absence.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, Cas is unavailable? Unavailable how? Is he on vacation?” 

“He has gone to The Empty,” she replied.

Dean felt all of the blood drain out of his face. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, his heart pounding. He could distantly hear Sam’s shocked response, as he leaned forward, his head falling between his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, a ringing in his ears. Over and over in his mind he heard Billie’s voice telling him that nothing came back from The Empty. _That must mean… he’s dead. How is he dead? How did this happen? It isn’t fair, I finally have him, and now I’ve lost him again..._ He felt a hand upon his shoulder and jerked upward, his eyes opening.

The dark haired angel was kneeling in front of him, her eyes questioning. “Why are you upset?”

Dean looked around and realized that they were all staring at him, with Sam looking the most concerned. He swallowed, a feeling like a lump in his throat. “Why the hell do you think? You just told me that someone I care about is dead.”

“Not dead,” corrected the blonde angel.

“Just gone for now,” added the red-haired angel.

“He will return to us shortly,” finished the twins, nodding.

Dean cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “How? I thought that nothing comes back from that place.”

“He went in his true form,” explained the dark-haired angel. “We are guarding his vessel until he returns.” She stood up and glanced towards the window, all of the other angels following her gaze. “It won’t be long now.” 

The wave of relief that washed over Dean was palpable. For the first time he thought that he must understand how the victims of Charon must’ve felt when offered the chance to see their loved ones again. He stood up. “Take me to him.”

The angels looked at each other. “I am not sure that is wise,” said the blonde angel.

“We are under strict orders to keep you safe,” announced the red-haired angel.

“Castiel has enemies in Heaven that would seek to harm him by harming you,” explained the twins.

Dean sighed. “Well, let’s just say I’m used to that by now.” He turned to the dark-haired angel. “I’m getting the impression that you’re the leader of this little pop group? What’s your name?”

“Serafina,” she answered. “There are no leaders amongst us. My siblings and I are all equals, as Castiel wishes us to be.”

“How many of there are you?” Sam asked, finally beginning to feel somewhat at ease with the situation.

“Thirty-three,” replied Serafina, turning to face Sam. “All given life from Castiel’s remaining grace.” She glanced sideways at Dean. “Not clones.”

Dean put his hands up. “Sorry. So anyway, I’m guessing that you guys know Cas pretty well, am I right?”

“Very,” replied Serafina. “We have all of his memories prior to his rebirth.”

Dean’s face heated up. _Shit._ “All of his memories?”

The five angels nodded in unison.

 _Yeah, because that’s not fucking embarrassing._ Dean resisted the urge to clap a hand over his face. “So then, you guys all know me right? I mean, you know how Cas felt about me.”

They all stared at him unblinkingly.

Sam grimaced. “Yeah, I gotta be honest Dean, I’m about two seconds away from getting the hell out of here and leaving you to your fate.”

“We are aware,” the blonde angel said.

“Why do you ask?” questioned the red-haired angel.

Dean groaned. “You know what? I’m gonna need some names here.” He pointed. “What’s your name?”

“Xibril,” answered the blonde.

“Ajai,” replied the redhead.

“Zephon and Zertis,” said the twins.

Dean blinked. _What the hell?_ He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not gonna remember any of that.” He turned to Serafina. “The reason why I asked, is because if you know Cas, you know that he would want you to take me to him if I asked. You do know that, right?”

Serafina narrowed her eyes. “We also know that sometimes you act in a way that is not consistent with Castiel’s best interest. Or your own, for that matter.”

“They got you there Dean,” Sam mumbled.

“Quiet you,” Dean replied. He turned back to Serafina. “Look me in my eyes, and tell me if you think I would do anything to jeopardize this. You said that he has enemies in Heaven, so let me be there to help you guys guard him.” He looked around. “Not to sound cocky, but I’m willing to bet that I’ve killed more angels than anyone else in this room.”

The young angels violently recoiled with a distinctive sound of ruffled wings. 

“Probably not the smartest thing to say,” Sam whispered, noticing how all of Cas’ fledglings were now glaring at Dean with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, I kinda got that,” Dean hissed. He waved his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Look, I didn’t mean to cause offense. I was just saying, that if there is any trouble, which I’m hoping there won’t be, it might be worth it to have me around.” He focused on Serafina. “Besides, if the five of you are here watching me, then that means there’s only twenty-eight of you watching over Cas’ vessel. Wouldn’t it be better if all of you were there?”

The angels turned to one another and began speaking again in Enochian. 

Dean watched them, his mind racing. _If I could go back again and do things differently…_ He cut off his train of thought, not wanting to consider the possibility that he wouldn’t get Cas back. 

Finally the angels turned back to Dean. One by one they began to nod. 

“We will take you to him,” Xibril said.

“But only you,” insisted Ajai.

“Your brother must remain here,” added Zephon and Zertis. "The two of us will keep watch over him from a distance."

“Fine by me,” Sam said quickly, putting his hands up. “I still have to find that coin.” He glanced at Dean. “Are you sure about this?” He lowered his voice, even though he knew that the angels could still hear him. “I mean, do you think you can trust them? It might be a trap.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean replied. “I have to see Cas. I need to be there when he gets back.” He pulled the Impala keys out of his pocket and handed them to Sam. “If you somehow manage to wrap up this case before then, I’ll meet you at the bunker. And Sammy, not a scratch.”

“I know how to take care of a car,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “You just take care of yourself.” He watched warily as Serafina walked up to Dean, her fingers reaching for his forehead.

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, his eyes following Serafina’s hand. “Wouldn’t be the dumbest thing I’ve done for lo—” The overbearing sensation of vertigo flooded his senses, making his stomach roil violently. He reached out a hand to steady himself and felt the unmistakable texture of stainless steel. His knees shaky, he narrowed his eyes, slowly assessing his new surroundings. _I’m in a restaurant._ He looked around, taking in the brightly colored booths. He realized he was leaning against the door of a large walk-in freezer.

“Are you alright?” Serafina asked.

Dean glanced back over his shoulder. _It looks like a Model UN club in here._ The restaurant was filled with young angels of varying nationalities, all of them studying him with great interest in their blue eyes. _Yeah, still creepy._ He swallowed, willing his stomach to settle down. _So much for making a strong first impression. They’re probably all wondering what the hell Cas even sees in me._ “I’m fine,” he said. “Is this a Biggerson’s?”

Serafina nodded. “Yes. Castiel took ownership of this one some time ago. We often come here to study humans and learn their ways.”

“I get that,” Dean replied, taking note of the uniforms some of the angels were wearing. There was even a tall angel standing near the grill. “You the cook?” He squinted at the name tag. “Johanev?” _Jesus, I am never going to remember these damn names. Why couldn’t Cas give them simple names like Bob or Mike?_

“I am,” Johanev replied. “Would you like a,” he paused while searching for the correct word, “hamburger?”

“No thanks,” Dean said quickly. “I’m sure you’re a great cook and all, but the last time I ate something from Biggerson’s, I almost turned into a monster, and I mean that in a very literal sense.”

The angels all looked at one another. “Leviathans,” they murmured in unison, nodding.

Dean barely repressed a shudder. “So where is Cas?”

Serafina pointed. “In the freezer, of course. Where else would he be?”

 _Where else would he be,_ Dean thought, rolling his eyes. _I see the smart mouth runs in the family._ He stared at the giant silver doors. He placed a hand on the surface again, feeling the cold coming from inside. “Can I see him?” he asked.

“Only for a moment,” Serafina answered. “Otherwise, you will quickly freeze to death, and none of us here are powerful enough yet to bring you back to life.”

Dean's mouth dropped open. “You tell me this now?!”

“You’re the one who insisted that we bring you here,” Serafina replied, shrugging. All of the other angels shrugged in unison.

 _Teenagers._ Dean shook his head. “Alright fine. I’ll only stay in there for a second.” He glanced back at the cook. “Something tells me I’m probably going to need a hot cup of coffee, so if you could put a pot on, er… Johnny, that would be great.” He turned back to the door. “Let’s do this.”

Serafina pulled back the heavy door, and Dean was immediately hit with an icy chill. “How goddamn low did you kids set the thermostat?!” he asked, his teeth already beginning to clatter even though he hadn’t even stepped inside.

“Negative 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit,” answered Serafina. “We must preserve the vessel. Growing secularism within the human species has made obtaining consent for angelic inhabitance somewhat challenging.” She sighed, sounding far wearier than someone who looked so young had any right to be. “Besides that, the bloodlines capable of containing an archangel are in very short supply. And with the way things between you and Castiel are progressing, we do not anticipate an increase in their number,” she added under her breath.

Dean couldn’t even roll his eyes, his face was too cold.

“Have you changed your mind about seeing him?” Serafina asked, observing Dean’s extreme discomfort.

“No,” Dean ground out. “I’m going. Just, don’t let me die in there. If you know Cas, then you know that he would be friggin pissed if I froze to death.”

“We will do our best,” Serafina replied. “But you must hurry.”

Dean shook his head and trudged forward, his skin stinging bitterly from the brutal cold. He didn’t bother to glance at the frozen food on the metal racks, but he did a make a mental note of being thankful that he had turned down that burger. _Anything stored in cold this deep was definitely not fit for consumption._ His breath crystallized in the air as he shuffled across the floor. He stopped when he saw Cas. 

Castiel was lying on a stainless steel table, looking for all intents and purposes as though he were taking a nap. His body seemed unaffected by the subfreezing temperature, but whether that was due to angel magic or simply the quality of his vessel, Dean had no way of knowing.

Dean gazed down at him, his chest tightening. He so rarely ever had the opportunity to simply look at Cas without being looked at in return. He studied his features, his skin, his hair. It was far too cold to pick up his scent, but Dean remembered it. How good and right it had felt waking up with it surrounding him. _Dean Winchester, you are the world’s biggest idiot._

“You must come back outside now,” Serafina said.

Dean hadn’t realized that she had followed him in. _I guess she cares after all._ He nodded, the very marrow of his bones aching. He trudged back out into the restaurant dining room, gradually shaking off the cold as Serafina closed the freezer door. “Is that coffee ready yet?” he asked, his teeth clattering.

When morning rolled around and Cas still hadn’t returned, Dean grudgingly accepted some scrambled eggs. He had to admit that they weren’t that bad until he felt the unmistakable crunch of eggshell and gave Johanev a baleful look. After that he stuck to coffee and toast.

The hours passed slowly. By the time Dean realized he should probably check in with Sam, his phone was already dead. “Any of you kids got a charger?” he asked. Thirty-one young faces stared back at him blankly. “Never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was lunch time and so far they hadn’t seen a single customer. “Where are all the normal people?”

Serafina looked at Dean as though the answer should be obvious. “From the outside we appear to be closed. We would never allow humans in here while Castiel is not in his vessel.” She inclined her head. “Except for you.”

Dean sighed and turned back towards Johanev. “You got anything else in that kitchen that didn’t come out of the freezer?”

Eventually nightfall came and with it, a growing sense of impatience. Dean didn’t want to vent his frustrations on Cas’ recruits, given that he was vastly outnumbered, but he couldn’t help feeling somewhat misled. “I thought you said it wouldn’t be long,” he said to Serafina.

“It has only been a few days since he left,” Serafina replied. “He will return soon.”

“Yeah well,” Dean muttered. “I’m beginning to think you and I have a very different definition of the word soon.”

Dean had almost dozed off for the night when a humming noise cut though the silence. He opened his eyes as a low rumbling began underground. He saw with some alarm that his empty coffee mug was skittering wildly upon the table. A beam of pure white began to shine from beneath the freezer door, the only source of light in the darkened restaurant. A high-pitched sound filled the air and he instinctively clapped his hands over his ears. He almost jumped when he felt another set of hands clamp down over top of them, further muffling the noise. Startled, he looked up to see Johanev standing over him.

“Close your eyes,” he mouthed.

Dean quickly shut his eyes, and even so he could still sense the light behind his eyelids. It flooded the entire restaurant. _Cas is back,_ he thought, his heart surging with relief. After a few moments the rumbling stopped and the light began to fade. Once he felt Johanev remove his hands, he tentatively opened his eyes. All of the angels were standing and watching the freezer, rapt with attention. 

The freezer door opened and Castiel stepped out, tendrils of cold mist curling around the edges of his coat. He started to address the angels but stopped when he saw Dean. He walked over to Dean’s booth as he stood up, his eyes narrowing. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

Dean stared back at Cas, unable to answer. _The right combination of words…_ He glanced around, his mind spinning. _Actions speak louder._ He grabbed Cas and hauled him in close. He didn’t stop to think about the thirty-one mortified young angels bearing witness to his utter lack of dignity. He kissed Cas like a desperate man, overturning several chairs in his haste. He vaguely registered the sound of numerous pairs of flapping wings and paused mid-kiss to smile wryly against Cas’ lips. “Class dismissed,” he mumbled.

Castiel let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a bolt of heat straight through Dean.

Their fingers flew, undoing shirt buttons like they were nothing. Dean let his clothes land where they fell, nearly tripping over his jeans in his hurry to finish undressing. When Castiel hesitated at his belt, Dean brushed his hands aside and took over for both of them, impatiently tugging away the last bit of clothing that separated their skin from one another. He backed Cas into the booth, pushing him down onto the seat and settling over top of him, their bodies slotted together. He had no idea how far he was prepared to take this, but when he felt Cas’ dick twitch against his own, pressed between the heat of their stomachs, he bit his lip and felt such a need that he thought he might explode.

Trapped in a delicious tangle of limbs, Castiel felt the hot pulse of Dean’s pre-come sliding down his own shaft and groaned, his fingers gripping onto Dean’s back.

Dean couldn’t help being enthralled. Cas’ skin was so warm despite having spent days in the cold and the scent that Dean had come to miss was powerfully present. He ran his hands all over Cas’ body, caressing every piece of skin he could find. The more he touched the more he wanted to touch, his lips following the path his fingers led.

Castiel writhed beneath Dean, slightly dazed by the intensity of Dean’s attention. He nipped at Dean’s skin as it came in contact with his lips, tasting the salt and the beads of sweat that had begun to form.

Dean pressed a hand to the cool glass of the window as he felt Cas suck a mark into the skin between his neck and shoulder, the sensation sending a jolt straight to his already aching dick. He reached his other hand down between them and began to stroke Cas as he rutted shamelessly against him, their cocks gliding slickly against each other.

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s hip to steady his movements and raised his other hand to Dean’s shoulder, his fingertips tracing teasingly around the brand.

Dean’s hips stuttered and he ducked his head, his cheek practically burning against Castiel’s. He could hear the angel panting and the knowledge that he was affecting Cas this strongly was gratifying. He pumped his hand faster, needing to bring this to release before he lost his mind.

As though reading Dean’s thoughts, Castiel pressed his palm fully against the brand.

An intense heat pulsed through Dean’s entire body. “Oh fuck,” he gasped. His vision blurred as he came, his rhythm thrown completely off. He felt Cas’ other hand drop to his hips to guide him, still grinding against him from below. Dean placed both trembling hands on the window for leverage as Cas moved him, the tingling sensations wringing little punched out breaths from his parted lips. 

Castiel closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Dean’s breathing and the lasciviously filthy smack of wet skin. He shuddered as the heated slick of Dean’s cum slid over his cock and down between their thighs. He felt Dean’s lips return to his own, and kissed him back hungrily, his every impulse twisted into a burning knot of sheer want. When Dean sucked his tongue into his mouth in a manner so sinfully suggestive of future encounters, Castiel lost it. He pulled back with a gasp as he came, his thighs shaking and his hands holding his hunter so tightly to him that he thought he might never let him go.

Dean breathed quietly against Castiel’s neck as they both came down from their high. “Wow,” he said, his voice slightly shaky.

“Wow,” Castiel agreed, sounding rather undone as well. “That was… quite unexpected.” He stared at Dean. “After the last time we spoke to one another, I thought you were angry with me.”

“Not exactly. I was just being an asshole,” Dean replied. “I get that way from time to time.” He sighed ruefully. “That’s something that you’ll have to deal with, if we’re going to be together, fair warning.”

“Be together?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that we fool around, and you allow me to sleep in your bed because you find it creepy for me to watch you.”

Dean blanched. “You heard that, huh?”

“I heard,” Castiel confirmed.

Dean cringed. “Well you know,” he started, “that was all bullshit. I just didn’t know how to own it yet. This.” He waved a hand. “Us.”

Castiel gazed back at Dean. “And now you do?”

“Hell, now I’d let you tackle me in front of Sam,” Dean replied. “I’m serious Cas, when I thought that you were gone, for good this time…” He shook his head. “I lost my shit. I made your little youth choir bring me here so that I could be there when you got back. And then the more time that passed, the less certain I was that you would come back, and so when I saw you, I just…” He waved a hand again. “You know.”

“I know,” Castiel agreed. He slid over in the booth, pulling Dean down beside him. “Believe me, I know. I have felt that way myself for many years.” 

They lay there in the dark, a comfortable silence taking hold.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“This, your current interest towards me, it isn’t because of…” Castiel’s brows furrowed. “My rise in status?” Although he had already decided what to do about Pieta, he couldn’t deny that some doubts about the truth of his words still lingered.

Dean lifted his head from Cas’ shoulder and stared back at him, eyebrow raised. “Are you fucking kidding me? You think I’m into you because God leveled you up?” He scoffed. “If anything, it made me even more reluctant to start anything with you, because if I fuck around and do something you don’t like, you might turn my ass into salt.”

“Ah,” Castiel said, inwardly relieved.

“I’ll tell you one thing though,” Dean continued, “that makes you more, I don’t know, attractive, is that you finally have a sense of purpose again.” He sighed. “Not that I didn’t feel anything before, when you were wandering and lost, but I think my own survival instinct kind of blocked it out. You know, I was barely holding myself together sometimes, I couldn’t afford to get involved with someone else who was a complete wreck too.”

“I understand,” Castiel replied. He glanced around at the deserted restaurant. “It is nice to have a purpose again.” 

“Yep, the cutthroat world of restaurant management,” Dean quipped. “Your employees are going to murder me for the mess we made in this booth. Definitely a health code violation.”

Castiel waved a hand and Dean glanced down to see that they were both clean and dry. “Better?” he asked, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“It’s efficient, I’ll give you that,” Dean replied. “But I prefer a regular shower. I guess that’ll have to wait until we get back.”

“We?” Castiel asked, glancing at Dean.

“Hell yes, we,” Dean said. “I didn’t come all the way out here just for the fun of it.”

“Neither did I,” Castiel replied. “I went to The Empty in search of revelation from the angels who have died, and now I must return to Heaven.”

“What was it like out there anyway?” Dean asked.

“Empty,” Castiel replied drily. “Yet peaceful in a sense. Although they are gone, small traces of them remain, interwoven into the fabric of the universe from which they were created.” He gave Dean a tiny smirk. “Zachariah is still quite angry at you for killing him, by the way.”

“Wow,” Dean laughed. “Now there’s a name I never expected to hear again.” He leaned up on his elbow. “Don’t tell me that you went all the way out there just to play catch up with Junkless.”

Castiel shook his head. “I went because when I walked the halls in Heaven, all I felt was loss. The angels I killed, those Raphael killed, Lucifer killed, even the ones murdered by Naomi, Uriel, and Metatron. And countless others, simply caught in between their endless scheming.” He sighed. “The weight of all that death was crushing. I didn’t think that I could bear it. And so I went to confront them, or what was left of them, so that I might make my peace.”

“And did you?” Dean asked, his eyes studying Cas’ face. “Did you make your peace?”

“I did,” Castiel confirmed. “I also got some advice from an old friend on how I should handle an angel who has been giving me difficulty as of late.”

“Why don’t you just have your gang of misfits give him the ol’ Julius Caesar?” Dean joked.

Castiel shook his head. “I will never kill another angel if I have a choice in the matter.” He gave Dean another tiny smile. “I have found a better way. One which will be rather fitting, I think.” He turned to look out the window at the moon. “Yes, it is indeed nice to have a purpose again.”

Dean gazed at Cas. The way his skin caught the moonlight, his eyes seeing far beyond anything that Dean could even imagine. He never could wrap his mind around how someone as strong as Cas could also be so uncertain of himself. _I guess I have myself to blame for that. You break it, you buy it._ Without realizing it, he tightened his grip on Cas’ arm.

Castiel turned to look at Dean.

Dean leaned in, bringing their lips together. His hand dropped from Cas’ arm to squeeze lightly on his thigh. He deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing sensuously against Cas’.

Castiel traced his fingers through Dean’s hair, his own mind humming with contentment. _All of it for him._ He broke the kiss reluctantly, sensing Dean’s need for air.

“Listen Cas,” Dean breathed. He slowly lifted his hand from Cas’ thigh. “For what it’s worth, I think you got this. I believe in you. So if things ever get, I don’t know, too heavy, just hang onto that, if nothing else.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly. He gave his fingers one last drift through Dean’s hair, his eyes darkening at the way the hunter tried to suppress a shudder. “As much as I wish I could stay…” He slowly looked Dean over, savoring every second of it. “I really do have to get back.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean mumbled, hoping that Cas couldn’t see him blushing in the dark, but knowing that he probably didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was blushing. “Just keep me posted, okay? Don’t stay away too long.”

Castiel stood up, his eyes never leaving Dean’s form. “I expect you will see me sooner than you think.” He vanished.

Dean reclined back in the booth. _Man, what a night._ He glanced around, snickering at the memory of how quickly the place had cleared out when he and Cas started in on each other. _Guess I should get dressed so I can drive back…_ He sat up in alarm, suddenly remembering how he had gotten here in the first place. He was either going to have to steal a car or call Sam to come and pick him up. “Shit!” He started searching for his clothes. As his hand touched down onto his rumpled jeans, he remembered his long dead cellphone. “Fuck!” He looked around again and realized that he didn’t even know which state he was in. “Son of a bitch!”

* * *

 

For the first time, Castiel felt that the hall full of angels staring back at him might actually have some opinions to share. _It’s about damn time._ “Well? I see that you’re all here. Let’s have it then. I know for certain that at least one of you has a great deal to say.”

“You went to The Empty unannounced,” accused Pieta, his voice echoing in the hall. “And now you return to us, reeking of sin!”

“I did,” Castiel replied, ignoring Pieta’s second remark. “I sought revelation from the fallen, and now I have returned to you all. My resolve strengthened, and my purpose clear.”

“And if you had not returned?” Pieta asked. “What then?”

“Then you would’ve achieved your wish,” Castiel said simply. “Unfortunately for you, that is not the case.”

“This is precisely the sort of reckless behavior that I have spoken against,” Pieta said, addressing the other angels. “Do you truly wish to place your faith in him? He who comes and goes as he pleases, on secret missions, without making any provisions as to what should be done in Heaven?”

“You’re no one to talk of secret missions,” Castiel said in a low voice. “Your attempt to find my vessel did not go unnoticed. Nor your interference in my personal affairs.” He snapped a finger, summoning one of his fledglings. 

Johanev stepped forward.

Castiel handed the young angel a coin. “Take this to Sam Winchester.”

Johanev nodded and disappeared.

“It is forbidden to remove objects from the archives!” Pieta declared, his face reddening. “That coin belongs in Heaven!”

“Perhaps thousands of years ago,” Castiel replied. “But I noticed that it was a very recent addition to the archives.” He leaned his head to the side and studied his rival. “Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t figure it out? Your scheme to pit my own needs against those of Heaven?"

“And if what you are insinuating is true, who amongst us would lay blame upon me?” Pieta shot back. “I will not worship at the altar of man as you do. You would have us all, each one of us, reduced to servants! Granting prayers at every whim and fancy!”

“I would have us remember our purpose,” Castiel corrected. “We are guardians, warriors, protectors, and defenders. Watching over humanity is our mission. It is the only one that matters.”

“Unacceptable!” Pieta spat, shaking with rage. “This is the influence of him upon you! The taint of your affliction! Your obsession with Dean Winchester will destroy us all!”

“Be careful Pieta,” Castiel warned. “If it were not for Dean Winchester, many of you would have died fighting in the war between Michael and Lucifer. Earth would be destroyed, and there would be nothing left.”

“You are the one who should be careful,” Pieta replied, lifting his chin. A small group of angels had gathered beside him, bolstering his support. “I am not the only one who is no longer afraid of you.”

Castiel sighed and shook his head. “Pieta, you are a fool.”

Pieta glared at Castiel. “I told you that this would end badly. This is what comes of trying to serve two masters, and it is clear that you have chosen the humans.”

“Our own father chose the humans over us,” Castiel announced. “Why do you think he abandoned Heaven for Earth in the first place? Why do you think he selected me to guide you?” He looked around at the other angels. “Because out of all of us, I am the only one who loves humanity the way that he had intended. While many of our kind fell into jealousy and contempt, I alone was willing to risk it all to truly understand why our father held the humans in such esteem. And I found out that they are his greatest creation. We have strayed far from our purpose, but no longer.” He stepped into the crowd.

Pieta squared his shoulders, even as some of his supporters shrank back. “Castiel, this is madness and we will not abide it. We may not be able to kill you, but together we can cast you out. You cannot smite all of us.”

Castiel noticed that the crowd had begun to shift again, several angels now moving to stand beside him. He glanced over and saw his fledglings lining up to defend him, their eyes reminding him so much of his younger self. He waved a hand. “Stand down, there will be no battle. Never again will angelkind take up arms against one another. I will not allow it.” He looked at Pieta. “And you are absolutely wrong.” For the first time since he had been remade he allowed his grace to fully manifest.

The hall filled with gasps of awe as a massive pair of black wings unfurled, their terrifying darkness recalling the abyss of space, the edges accented with feathers in rich jewel tones of ruby, emerald, sapphire, and amber shining brilliantly.

Castiel regarded Pieta calmly, his eyes luminous. “You are wrong in ways that you cannot even begin to comprehend,” he said, four distinct voices blending together. “I could smite every last one of you without moving from this spot. I could tear Heaven down and cast you all to earth, to hell, or out into the void. There is nothing that any of you could do to stop me if I chose to act against you.” He turned his gaze on Pieta. “Too many lives have been lost to plotting, too many of our kind sacrificed for the ambitions of another. It all ends now.” He extended his hand towards Pieta.

Pieta froze, mouth agape. He seemed be choking on the air until a ball of bright white light floated from his throat. 

Castiel caught it in his palm, and turned it over, studying it.

Pieta gasped, sinking to the floor. He realized with horror that he was somehow shrinking in on himself, growing smaller by the second. “What manner of death is this?!”

Castiel gave Pieta a pitying glance. “It is not death, but a second chance to prove your worth. In a few moments you will be reborn on earth as a human infant. You will have no memory of your time as an angel. Some day in the future, one of us will come to you to see what you have become. If you have learned humility and kindness towards your fellow man, then you will be welcomed back into the heavenly host. If not, then you will live out the remainder of your human life and die, never knowing what you have lost.” _Thank you Anna._

The angels watched rapt as Pieta shrank completely out of sight.

Castiel turned to his audience. “I know that many of you feel that I don’t belong here. And I know that many of you feel that I am worse than Lucifer, and you think that I should be in a cage of my own. There was once a time where I may have even agreed with that. But our father did not wish it so. He wanted me here, to set Heaven to rights, and that is precisely what I intend to do.” He turned his pointed gaze on Pieta’s co-conspirators.

A handful of angels dropped to their knees. “Please have mercy upon us,” one of them said in a trembling voice. “We only wanted what was best for Heaven.”

“As do I,” replied Castiel. He signaled for them to rise. “I made a promise to myself that never again would I spill a single drop of angel blood for any reason except one, and I intend to honor that promise. But you will either learn to live in Heaven or you will leave Heaven, one way or another. The choice is yours.” His gaze softened as he pulled his power back into himself. “Yet, it is my hope that all of you will remain. There is so much work to be done, and I know that together we can achieve great things.”

Slowly the angels all began to nod. _Alright,_ Castiel thought. _Progress._ Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of them start to kneel, the others getting ready to follow suit. “No. There will be none of that, my brothers and sisters. I meant what I said. We will all work together in this. Are there any questions?” Castiel looked around at their hesitant faces, patiently waiting for one of them to speak up. _I don’t care if we have to stand here for a century, someone is going to say something._

Finally one of the older angels tentatively raised his hand. 

Castiel nodded. “Speak, my brother.”

The angel sheepishly moved to the front, his eyes anxious. “You said that you would never again spill the blood of angelkind for any reason, save one. As I would very much like to keep all of my blood Sir, I would like to know, what could compel you to take such action?”

* * *

 

“You owe me big time,” Sam said. “And it would’ve been nice if Cas’ friend would’ve shown up just a few hours earlier.” He shook his head as he walked down the bunker steps. “Could’ve saved me the trouble.”

“Like you never dug up a body before,” Dean scoffed, following Sam into the room. “You know that’s your favorite part.”

Sam gave Dean a look. “Taking care of the ferryman wasn’t that bad. Driving all the way across the country to pick your ass up was. Ohio and Utah aren’t exactly right next door to each other. You could've just stolen a car.”

“Cry me a river,” Dean quipped. He smirked. “Get it? River?”

Sam sighed. “I just rolled my eyes so hard, I think I saw my brain.” He sat down in his chair and stretched out his legs.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Dean said. “Cas is the one who picked Mormon country to train his missionaries. As if they weren’t already weird enough. I hate to see how they’re going to turn out under that kind of influence.” He plunked down into his own chair, kicking his feet up onto the table.

They both looked up at the sound of the bunker door opening. 

“Huh. Cas is here,” Sam said. “I wonder what’s up now.”

Dean didn’t even have to turn around. He could feel Cas’ intention as though it were laser focused in his direction. He had no doubts about what was getting ready to happen. He knew that it would only take one word from him to stop Cas in his tracks, but he also knew he wasn’t going to say a damn thing. He swung his legs down off the table and cast an apologetic glance at his brother. _Sorry Sammy._

Sam barely had a chance to scoot his chair back from the table before Dean was on it with Cas on top of him.

Dean was only vaguely aware of the hardness of the table as Cas kissed him. He was much more attuned to the way that Cas’ hand had settled at his throat, the thumb stroking along the line of his jaw, fingers holding onto the back of his neck. His other hand went to Dean’s head, fingers twined into his hair, as if to keep him in place as he ravaged his mouth. Not like he was planning to move. How could he with the solid weight of angel on top of him, and his own knee trapping Cas in by the hip. 

When Castiel finally released Dean, the hunter was dizzy. He remained where he had fallen, staring up at Cas, hazily admiring the way the overhead lamp illuminated his profile. _Dean Winchester, I don’t know what you did to deserve this, but you had better not fuck it up._ He swallowed and tried a smirk. “Hey Cas. Whatever happened to hello?”

Castiel leaned down and sucked a fresh mark into the space of skin where Dean’s neck met his shoulder, the grip of his hand the only thing keeping the hunter from smacking the back of his head on the table in his involuntary spasm. “Hello,” he growled, his lips brushing softly against the reddening skin.

“Oh fuck,” Dean breathed. _He learns fast. I can already see this is gonna be a real problem._ He bit back a groan as Cas shifted above him again. 

“All is well in Heaven,” Castiel murmured, resting his forehead against Dean’s. “I believe that everything is going to work out.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean said, meeting Castiel’s gaze. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Castiel stared intensely at Dean, the temptation to leave Heaven to its own devices tonight just barely kept at bay. “I have to get back. There is still so much to be done. I just wanted you to know.” He nodded politely towards the corner. “Sam.”

“Cas,” Sam said quietly, still frozen to his chair. He let out a relieved breath when Castiel vanished. 

Dean sat up and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He dared a glance at his brother, not at all surprised to see the utterly mortified expression on his face. “So yeah…” he started. “Me and Cas… We’re together. It’s official.”

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that,” Sam replied. “Next time, a little warning would be nice.” He shook his head. “Just because I’m happy for you doesn’t mean I want to watch.”


End file.
